White Christmas
by Melancholy's Child
Summary: Nadir visits Erik's home in an effort to not spend Christmas alone. Post-canon modern AU Pharoga. Rated M! (Now updated with Part 2.)
1. Christmas

**A little Christmas Pharoga fic because why not? Rated M for sexy times.  
**

* * *

 **White Christmas**

He supposed he should have known better.

In all honesty, Nadir had let down his guard. He had gotten used to the lack of traps along his trek from the opera house above to the almost quaint little home below. So, when the thin bit of wire sent him tumbling into the lake, he considered himself lucky that he let go of his packages and lamp before the frigid water closed in over his head.

Erik had disabled most of his traps when Christine had started coming down here regularly. Nadir had not expected him to reinstate any, but now that more than two years had passed since she had married de Chagny, perhaps he was regaining some of his old habits.

Nadir resurfaced, sputtering, and swam back to shore, thankful he had managed to keep on his shoes. He checked his cell phone, but the thing was fine even after being dunked, not that he had signal down here. He loaded his bags onto the tiny boat and began to push himself across with the pole, the trek rather unpleasant. It was not the first time he had arrived dripping, and he half-expected Erik to show up at the door to grumble at the mess he left on the front stoop.

In fact, there was not much sign of life in the place. The door was unlocked, but Erik never locked it anyway. The lights were off, and Nadir flicked on a lamp without needing to see, moving about the space from memory alone.

Wherever Erik was, he was not in the parlor or living room. Nadir had last seen him a week ago, and from the looks of the place, Erik had not bothered to emerge in a while. Despite the chill in the air, the hearth was as cold as the winter storm brewing in the outside world high above. Nadir busied himself with scraping out the remnants of the fire he had made last week and soon had another one licking its way up the chimney and warming Nadir's bearded cheeks.

Unable to resist smiling to himself, the Iranian set down his packages and pulled out a ten-inch record from one of the bags. He crossed to the record player, carefully placed it upon the platter, set the needle, and turned up the volume.

He supposed he could have eased his old friend into the music, but he had deliberately selected a song to drive the man out of the shadows. When "Jingle Bells" began to spew out of the speakers with its jovial tempo and ringing bells, he knew he only had to wait.

The spare bedroom likewise had not been touched. Nadir had cleaned out Christine's belongings long ago and instead set it up as a proper second bedroom, complete with a guest robe for such occasions that he visited and needed to wait for his clothes to dry. Which was often.

By the time "Jingle Bells" had shifted to "Santa Claus is Comin' to Town," Nadir could hear the stomping that traveled into the living room.

"What the _hell_?" came Erik's voice, rough from disuse.

Nadir belted the thick robe over the pajama pants he had pulled on and strode out of the room. He really should remember to bring socks and slippers down here, but at least it was warmer by the fire. He ignored the tall figure currently spitting like a cat by the record player and focused on stretching his wet clothes across the hearth to dry.

He could feel Erik's eyes doing their best to burn into his back. "You must have truly lost your mind, Daroga, to believe you can play such drivel in my own home."

"Millions of people would disagree with you that Bing Crosby is drivel."

"Millions of people also believe what they put out today can even be called music."

At that, Nadir laughed, turning to face the other man. Erik stood in rumpled black pants and a white button-down shirt open at the collar. He wore his black mask that left only his mouth visible, and his black hair stuck up wildly. He was, frankly, a mess. It was clear that Erik had done little to take care of himself since Nadir's last visit.

The record continued to spin, shifting now to "Silent Night." Nadir gestured at the turntable. "Now, you cannot call _that_ drivel."

Erik shrugged, and Nadir was rather surprised to see him giving in so easily. He stepped closer, noticing the way Erik's spindly hands hung limply at his sides and seeing the spidery red webs in the whites of his eyes.

Erik's thin mouth tightened. "Have you come merely to stare?"

Nadir ignored the question. "You haven't been sleeping again."

Erik grunted in response. His tired eyes swiveled to track the Iranian as he made his way back to the abandoned bags, beginning to sort through the contents. He had food provisions, which he carried to the kitchenette.

"Make yourself at home," he heard Erik grumble from the other room.

After he had put the groceries away, Nadir came back to find the other man still standing in the same spot near the record player, Bing Crosby's warm baritone sending out its slow warble. Erik had made no move to turn it off, his yellow eyes slightly off-focused and staring at some faraway point.

Nadir took the opportunity to study the other man a bit closer. He was not wearing his wig, and Nadir wondered if he had changed his clothes, done _anything_ since Nadir's last visit. For a moment, his heart ached again, that all-too familiar tightness in his chest when he thought about the past couple of years. He had hoped Erik would be able to move beyond the events with Christine, to find his way through the next phase of life without her presence.

He reached out a hand to grip Erik's sleeve. Erik jerked as though he had not noticed Nadir standing there.

"Do you want to die, Daroga?"

Nadir's lips curled upward at the familiar insult. "Not tonight." Not waiting for permission – better to ask for forgiveness – he slid his hand lower and caught Erik's hand in his own. The long fingers spasmed at the touch, and he heard Erik inhale sharply through the nose holes of his mask.

"What are-"

Nadir turned away and headed out of the living room, tugging Erik along with him. He expected a bit of a fight, but the other man merely fell into line behind him, his fingers eventually curling to hold their position around Nadir's. Bing Cosby's gentle voice faded into the background as they walked down the hall and into Erik's bedroom.

If he had been in here at all in the past week, Nadir could not tell. The black coverlet was smooth and clean, the pillows fluffed – exactly how Nadir had left them. He did not like the chill in this room, but he would worry about a lighting a second fire later. Right now, he let go of Erik's hand, left him in the middle of the room, and went to fetch a towel and Erik's pajamas.

Like before, Erik stayed in his spot, though his eyes followed Nadir's movements. When Nadir approached again, Erik scoffed.

"I never wear pajamas."

"You should," Nadir said, setting the items in the chair in the adjoining bathroom. "I bought them for you to use, and they are soft. You will sleep better in them."

Erik's thin lips turned downward, but in a testament to his exhaustion, he did not argue any further about it. He allowed Nadir to steer him into the bathroom.

"Take a bath," Nadir said. "I will have soup ready when you're done."

He got no response, so he turned on his heel and left the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Presently, he heard the water running, and satisfied with that, he busied himself in the kitchen. He had made a mild chicken soup with vegetables earlier that day, so all he had to do was heat it up in a pot. He cut some chunks of bread and found the dishes, and he arranged the rest of the groceries better so that Erik would have quick access to more food once the soup ran out.

Almost fifteen minutes later, the soup was bubbling, and Erik emerged in the doorway. He had put on the pajamas – a set in black cotton with white trim – and he was still wearing his mask. Nadir worried he had not even taken it off to bathe, but his thin wisps of hair were damp. Nadir watched white angular feet carry him to the pot where he gazed inside at the contents dispassionately.

Nadir clicked his tongue. "You should have put on socks. And you don't have to wear that." He pointed at the black mask.

"I do not want to offend your delicate sensibilities," Erik shot back, voice biting even as his broad shoulders slumped tiredly. "It has been so long since you have seen, you might faint. I cannot have you hitting your head and bleeding on my floor, can I?" It was the most he had spoken since Nadir had arrived.

"Let's eat by the fire, then, if you insist on dressing as such. Grab the plate of bread, would you?"

Nadir spooned two helpings into bowls and moved into the living room. Bing Crosby was crooning about how much it looked like Christmas, which conflicted with the somber mood inside Erik's home. There were, of course, no decorations for such a holiday. Nadir had arranged two chairs beside the fire, and he took one of them, handing a bowl to Erik to who slowly slid in next to him.

"I am not hungry," Erik said, staring down at the soup.

"Eat anyway." Nadir himself was famished from his trek down here – and his freezing swim. After a few large spoonfuls of the steaming liquid, and some time spent with the heat of the fire seeping into his frame, he finally felt warm again. He cast a sidelong glance at Erik and saw the man take a few bites of his own soup.

They ate in silence for a while, and then Erik set his empty bowl aside. He slumped against the back of his chair. "Daroga."

"Mmm?"

" _Is_ it Christmas?"

Nadir tilted his bowl to drink the last bit of his broth. "Tomorrow, actually."

Yellow eyes pivoted to consider him. "Is that why you have come down here and decided to pester me?"

"I suppose." Leaning back himself, he folded his hands across his full belly and settled into his plush robe. "I also just like you."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Erik straighten back to stare at the fire. "I haven't any idea why except perhaps that you are insane."

"Does it matter why?"

"No, if you truly do not care to waste your time here."

"Not a waste. Not to me."

Bing Crosby began to wish for a white Christmas, and Erik snorted. "The bird chirping in this song is grossly unneeded."

"I do agree, but there is something soothing about the song that I enjoy. The nostalgia of Christmases past, maybe. The forecast is calling for snow tomorrow, and it has been years since Paris has gotten one so early. I have to admit that I am more than a little hopeful."

Erik's lips twisted in an expression of pain. "The women in this bit of the song are terrible! Crosby should have sung this on his own. What was the point is bringing in birds and women except to ruin what could have been melodious with only the male voice?"

"I don't know about that, old friend. Ella Fitzgerald's version is truly sultry."

Erik sat up straight so he could fully turn and glare at the Iranian. "What has gotten into you?"

Nadir could not take this line of conversation any longer. He stood and gathered up their dishes, taking them to the kitchen to wash later. Then he returned to the living room and stood in front of Erik.

"To bed with you."

He could tell Erik was not ready to let the conversation slide, but surprisingly, he rose obediently and followed Nadir to his bedroom. His plodding footsteps, bare feet padding across the carpet, spoke of his weariness. Nadir hoped the combination of warm soup and warm bath would allow Erik to finally get some rest.

Nadir turned down the blankets, then focused on bringing a fire to life in the hearth at the foot of the bed.

At his back, Erik said, "You are such a mother hen, Daroga."

Nadir only smiled where Erik could not see and added a few sticks at a time until the fire was blazing as brilliantly as the one in the living room. He was pleased to see, when he turned around, that Erik sat on the edge of the bed. However, he could tell Erik's eyes watched him warily, and when he went to remove Erik's mask, the other man leaned out of his reach.

"You will sleep better without it," Nadir said gently.

"What is the point?" Erik swung his long legs into the bed and tossed the blankets across them. "I wake tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, and there is still only _nothing_ , Daroga. What does it matter if I eat or rest or let the mangled flesh of my face breathe? None of it _matters._ "

"It matters to me." Before he could listen to his own internal warning bells of caution, Nadir grasped onto the front of Erik's shirt, fisting the fabric. "It matters to _me_."

The other man returned his clutches, grabbing onto the thick neckline of Nadir's robe. His eyes burned fiercely in the firelight, the whites around his irises visible. "But _why_?"

"I told you why!"

"'I like you' is never an answer because you never explain." Erik's narrow chest heaved as he sucked in sharp, quick breaths. The sound of Bing Crosby had ended long ago, and only the crackling fire and Erik's frantic breathing assaulted Nadir's ears.

Nadir's mind scurried to come up with some reply that did not sound like a plea, but all he could do was struggle to keep breathing.

"You do not even celebrate Christmas, you stupid old man."

"Neither do you," was his retort but that seemed petty even to him. "If you haven't figured out the _why_ in the two decades we have known each other, then nothing I could possibly say could ever make that clear to you."

He tried to rise up, to escape, but Erik held fast to his robe. He was suddenly very much aware of his own predicament, of how easily his robe could fall open upon his bare chest, of how he had tucked a knee next to Erik's lean thigh on the bed, of the clean scent of Erik's soap wafting through the air.

"Let go, Erik."

Erik's chin tilted up in a challenge. "No."

"I said let go." He hated the way his voice began to crack, but it was all too much. His face was only an arm's length from the masked man beneath him. He felt himself unraveling, felt a flush blossoming from his neck to his cheeks, felt something stirring deep within his belly.

"Look at yourself," Erik said, suddenly soft. "Get in bed, Daroga. You obviously need the rest as much as I do."

He stared down at Erik, wide-eyed, but the man still had a tight grip upon his robe. He… surely, he did not mean… Calling his bluff, Nadir leaned more weight upon his knee, easing onto the side of the bed. To his shock, Erik shifted, giving him enough space to slide beneath the covers. Once Nadir was settled on his side facing Erik, the other man let go of his robe and rolled onto his back, staring up the dark expanse of ceiling high above them. His chest rose and fell in quick succession.

Nadir placed a hand flat upon the other man's sternum, and Erik froze. "Be at ease, old friend." He rubbed a slow circle along that bony chest, trying to remain comforting. When he went to take his hand away, Erik snatched it in a crushing grip, keeping it there.

"I think, Daroga… I do understand."

It was Nadir's breath that increased its pace, matching the way his heart began to pound. Making a decision, he moved one of his fingers and slipped it between the buttons on Erik's shirt. The skin there was surprisingly smooth. He had seen Erik shirtless many a time, had looked closely enough to stitch and bandage wounds, but he had never simply _touched_. His own hands felt suddenly much too rough, but he could not bring himself to try to pull away.

Erik's eyes seemed to glow in the low light, and Nadir tried to ignore the intensity he saw there. He feared if he returned that gaze, he might venture over a precipice out of which he could never climb.

"I- I should not-"

"Frightened, Daroga?" The edge of that thin mouth quirked up ever so slightly. "Where is that courage you always seem to muster?"

Nadir wanted to shut him up. Truly, if Erik kept talking, if his words turned more mocking than they already were, he really would bolt. What could he do but shock him into silence? He flicked open one of the buttons and shoved his hand fully inside Erik's shirt, grazing fingertips along cool skin until he felt the rounded curves of a ribcage.

Erik hissed in a breath, and Nadir seized the opportunity to slide his hand downward, popping several buttons as he went until he found the concave dip of a trembling belly. Afraid of what he might see in Erik's eyes, he tucked his face in the angular shape of where neck met shoulder, breathing in the scent of soap. As his fingertips met the waistband of pajama pants, he pressed his lips to the inch of skin that marked Erik's tense jaw just below his ear, careful to keep his beard from scratching. Lower still, his fingers found a sparse, soft mat of hair while his lips mapped a wildly beating pulse point in the other man's neck.

Erik made a strangled noise in his throat. Alarmed, Nadir glanced up, but Erik's eyes were closed, his head tilted back as though giving Nadir better access. His bony knuckles were white as he clutched the sheets to either side of his hips.

When Nadir paused, one golden eye opened a slit. That lovely voice was shaky, his previous confidence rocked. "I… I have never…"

The Iranian understood, and he pressed another kiss to one bony shoulder, atop the shirt. "I have."

"Lucky me."

Nadir chuckled at that, and with more assurance, allowed his hand to continue its path. His nails scratched at the curls there, and then he found the jut of hardened flesh rising upward. Here, Erik was _warm_ , all silky skin stretched taut. Nadir's hand traveled down that length, ghosting across the tip and eliciting another hiss between a clenched jaw. He tugged down Erik's pants, exposing him to Nadir's willing hand, his broad palm cupping him fully.

Rising upon an elbow, he kissed his way down the swallowing throat and found where he had parted the pajama top. He gave a tentative lick, just needed a taste, and found the pale skin a mixture of salt and soap and something else… something entirely Erik. A groan rose out of him, and suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to taste more of the man beneath him. Fingertips grazing up and down Erik's length, he allowed his lips to map the ridges of a ribcage that quivered with each drawn breath.

Not able to resist, he tongued the hollow of bellybutton and then dipped down just as Erik uttered a strangled "Nadir!"

He gave a quick lick, then swallowed him down. His mind went blank, his senses consumed by the man – his friend – who parted his legs to give him greater access. He knew this moment would not last long, and once he pressed the flat of his tongue to that fevered flesh and added a twist of his hand, Erik came undone with a cry.

Nadir took what he could and caught the rest in his hand, unable to suppress grinning around Erik's softening member. When Erik jerked from the too-sensitive touch, he released him. He kissed one jutting hip bone, then crossed to the bathroom to quickly wash up.

Erik had righted his clothing before Nadir returned to his position on the bed. He throbbed with want, but he would never consider asking for anything in return. It was enough to give his friend something of himself, enough to know he had been able to bring Erik pleasure when before there had been none. He pulled the blankets over the both of them and considered whether or not he should remove his robe.

He stretched out an arm to turn off the lamp. As soon as they fell into only the glow of the fireplace, he felt a chilled touch slip between the folds of his robe, just above his heartbeat.

"Erik?" he said, the man's name a weighted question.

"Do you not want me to reciprocate?"

He sucked in a shaky breath at the idea. "I didn't expect it. You know I have always… taken whatever you have offered." He chanced a glance at Erik's face and found glowing eyes staring at him, unblinking.

"I am offering," Erik said.

"A-All right."

He settled back against the pillow. That cold hand mirrored his actions from earlier, each digit fanning across his darker skin as it parted his robe. At once, he was well aware of the coarse black hair that speckled much of his front, of the softness of his belly that had only grown with his age. He shut his eyes against the sight and tried to relax, but he could tell as that hand cupped him over his pajama pants, that he had lost much of his arousal.

Erik paused. "Did I do something? Are you in pain?"

"No, no, that is not it," he said. "I just have not done this… with anyone… in a very long time." Feeling the air on his chest and belly, he tried to clutch his robe closed, but Erik batted his hands away.

"You are such an idiot," Erik muttered under his breath. Another hand joined the first, both palms warming slightly on Nadir's heated skin. He focused upon the feel of those hands exploring along his torso, and when one pinched one of his nipples, he jumped at the flood of desire that coursed through him.

"Always a fool," he heard that silvery voice murmur. "You think too much, my Daroga."

 _His_ Daroga?

With a tug, his pants were down around his thighs, and a cool palm enveloped his revived length. The grip was too rough, the pace too unpracticed, but the fact of _who_ was touching him, _who_ had his long-fingered hand wrapped around him… that was what drove Nadir to the edge of madness. He bucked under that hand, and all too soon, he spilled his release in a barely repressed sob.

When he cracked open his eyes, Erik was leaning over him, stare intent, the edge of his thin bottom lip caught against one white tooth. Unable to process the emotion he saw there, Nadir looked away first. His pants were already ruined, so he wiped clean Erik's hand and kicked them off the rest of the way while Erik settled back into the bed. Those yellow eyes blinked sleepily at him, and Nadir pulled the blankets over them both once again, keeping himself covered by the robe, not quite ready for sleeping naked.

Before he was even comfortable in his position, he felt the steady breathing coming from the man beside him. "Oh Erik," he whispered in the dark. He rested his head upon the pillow and let his knuckles relax against Erik's arm.

Sleep quickly claimed him.

Nadir awoke sometime in the night to a completely black room, the fire having died. A glance at the clock beside the bed told him it was about three thirty. He had slept almost six hours straight. Even though he could not see him, he could tell Erik still lay next to him in the bed. His heart surged with want, but he feared what morning might actually bring.

Carefully, he sat up, but his movement woke the man next to him immediately.

"Daroga?"

Why was his chest hurting so much, his belly tight with some kind of nervous energy? "I'm sorry for waking you. I can't sleep anymore, and I thought I might check to see if it had snowed."

"What?" The voice sounded clearer, the sleepy grogginess evaporating.

"The snow. The weatherman said it might snow today." He needed to see if it had, but he wasn't quite ready to explain why. His feet met the icy floor, but he made himself stand. "I'm going to go check."

Erik also sat up in bed, the blankets rustling as he did so. "Have you lost your mind?"

Maybe he had. He ignored the question, however, and made his way in the dark to the living room where he stoked the fire awake. His clothes had dried enough by the fire, although his shoes were still damp. He would have to make do for now. He pulled on his clothes as quickly as he could, including his coat, and wound his scarf around his neck.

"Hold on," Erik said from down the hall. He emerged into the room fully dressed himself, though he had foregone a tie. He seemed cranky, but he stabbed his arms into his own black coat, the thick woolen fabric falling past his knees. "If you are having an episode, I should at least bear witness."

Nadir snorted. "Put on a scarf. I know you have one I gave you."

Erik frowned but went and fetched one, as well as his wide-brimmed hat. The two of them made their way across the lake and climbed out of the dungeon that was Erik's home. Nadir intended to go out the rue Scribe entrance, but Erik pulled him in a different direction. Taking passageways within the walls that Nadir had never used, they began to climb stairs until they emerged upon the roof of the Populaire.

The wintry air blasted against what little of his face peeked out from his scarf. The green-tinted slant of the roof was covered in snow, but Erik continued to yank him forward until they reached the edge. Looking out across the rooftops of Paris laid out before them, Nadir took in the sight. The world outside was aglow in color. The city was strung with thousands of lights all casting multicolored washes across the thin blanket of fresh snow.

Nadir turned to Erik, unable to keep from grinning. "Thank you."

"Whatever for?"

Nadir shrugged. "This sight."

"It is only an inch or so of snow, Daroga," Erik said, toeing the stuff on the roof. "Hardly anything to cheer about. We used to see feet of it in the mountains of Mazandaran."

"Even so."

Nadir remembered the last time he had seen snow in Paris at this time of year. He had arrived here in his hunt to find Erik after they had been separated in Iran, and he had entered this very building in the hopes that Erik would have been drawn to the opera. He had been right, of course, and he had never been so thrilled to hear snide comments about his arrival ghost along his ear.

He would not tell Erik that now, did not want to spoil his memory with whatever reaction the other man might have. He allowed the moment to soak into him. He was content enough to stand here upon the roof with Erik, taking in deep breaths of the night air and inhaling the wintry scent of snow.

He could feel Erik's eyes upon him. Then Erik was leaning in, and Nadir was not backing away, and firm, icy lips skated across his own. Before he quite realized what had happened, Erik was hunkering back down into his scarf and staring out across the sleeping streets of Paris.

"Merry Christmas, Nadir, for what that is worth."

Nadir's scarf probably hid most of his grin… probably. Those words were worth more to him than his companion might ever know.

"Merry Christmas, Erik."

 _fin_


	2. New Year's

**This is all Wheel of Fish's fault.**

 **Rated a HARD M for Mature here.**

* * *

 **Part 2: New Year's**

"I did not get you a present," Erik said.

Nadir turned his attention back to the taller man beside him. Only Erik's eyes were visible between hat and scarf, but his angular figure cut a handsome black shape out of the otherwise whiteness around them.

Nadir could not imagine the reaction he might receive if he actually called Erik _handsome_ , but he had thought the word about his friend for some time now. Erik had an aura about him that illustrated a man entangled in complexities that even Nadir was still solving.

He shrugged within his heavy coat. "I didn't get you a present either."

"The album is not mine to keep? I see how you are, Daroga – rousing me from my peace, forcing your presence upon me, and then not giving me anything for my trouble."

 _I gave you something earlier,_ Nadir thought but did not say. He could not quite wrap his head around the events of earlier in the night, before they had slept. But he was sticky in a way he could not ignore, and he was glad for the layers covering up his rapid pulse.

"In any case," Erik continued, "the tip of your nose is red, which means the night is too cold for your delicate nature. We should return underground and get you in front of the fire before you freeze to death."

Nadir took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Actually," he said carefully, satisfied that his voice did not tremble. "I should be getting home."

Erik leveled a piercing stare upon Nadir. "In the middle of the night? You would have to walk."

"I don't mind." He swept a hand at the snow-capped scene below. "The stroll will give me time to enjoy this, after all."

Erik hunkered further into his scarf, shoulders rigid. "Goodbye, then." He strode on stiff legs halfway back to the hatch that led off the roof of the opera house. He paused only a moment, seemed to consider saying something over his shoulder, then roused himself with a half-shake of his head and vanished from the roof.

Now alone, Nadir lingered, gazing at the footprints of his companion in the snow. When his eyes began to burn, he shook himself and followed. However, instead of accessing the passageway that would take him back to Erik's home, he turned and made his way along the familiar route to the street.

Paris was truly asleep this Christmas morning. Typically, bakers and coffee houses might be stirring by now, readying their wares for the early-risers and workers. But whether they celebrated the season or not, Parisians were sleeping in at least a little while, until children woke up at dawn to rip their presents apart.

Nadir puffed a white, wispy sigh. He adjusted his scarf to cover much of his face and began the lengthy walk back to his apartment on rue de Rivoli. He tried to focus on the magical scene around him – the trees coiled in white lights, the blanket of snow that made everything sparkling clean, the satisfying crunch of his boots.

He could have joined Erik back in his underground abode – the man had even _invited_ him. But he feared the battle his heart and mind were currently having with each other, and although he was far too used to Erik's type of humor, he also feared he would not be able to weather anymore jabs or quips at his expense tonight.

He had merely wanted to comfort his friend, to drag Erik out of his misery and stir some life into him. He had never expected what had happened between them, and now he supposed he could best explain his own reaction as… running away.

Or bolting. Yes, he was bolting.

Nadir quickened his pace, the stroll in the snow quickly losing its appeal as the cold set into his older bones. By the time he made it to his apartment, his fingers and toes were numb. He stamped his feet to remove the clinging snow, tore off his outer garments, and settled in front of the fireplace after he stirred it awake. His extremities were an angry dark red, and he supposed he deserved the uncomfortable burning sensation his sudden departure was now causing his frozen self.

He was such a coward.

* * *

The next few days passed without preamble. The bane of retirement meant that he had little to occupy his time. _Erik_ had been his chief concern for the last few decades, and now that he was actively avoiding the man for the first time since they had met, Nadir really did not know what to do with himself.

He resigned to merely making it through the end of the year. When New Year's Eve rolled inevitably around, Nadir parked in front of his television and set the channel to something decidedly _not_ holiday-related. The noise of his program did little to drown out the firecrackers being set off outside; a side effect of living across the street from the Tuileries Gardens. The weather had warmed back up outside in the past days, and Parisians were out in droves.

A glance at the clock told him he had only thirty minutes left of this nonsense before he might be able to go to bed.

And then a knock beat upon his door, three quick raps of a bony knuckle.

He knew who it was immediately.

He looked a mess, but at least he had put on clean clothes today. His apartment looked a mess too, uncharacteristic for his usual meticulousness. He grabbed some dirty dishes and at least set them _in_ the sink, then looked around a little wildly to see what else he could quickly clean.

"Daroga, do I have to pick your lock again?" came Erik's voice through the door.

"I'm coming," he said, and flicked open the door.

Erik stood there, dressed much the same way he had been when Nadir had seen him on Christmas, scarf and all. He carried a laden bag in one hand, which he sat upon the kitchen counter as he swept into the apartment without invitation.

"What are you doing here?" Nadir asked, standing with the door open for too long before remembering to close it.

Erik took of his hat and balanced it on the rack beside the door. "Making sure you are still alive." He paused, taking a moment to ensure that his black mask had not been knocked askew. "I suppose this is what our lives have been reduced to – taking turns to check upon each other's living status." He swept off his cloak and placed it upon the same rack.

"How were you not seen? There are thousands of people on the street tonight."

Erik leveled a very serious glare upon him. "Let us not be insulting, Daroga, especially when I have brought you treats."

Treats? Admittedly, he perked up at the thought, but he tried to appear casual as he joined Erik in the kitchen.

Erik unpacked the bag he had brought, revealing a bottle of sparkling cider – perfect for the abstemious Iranian – various cheeses, meats, and olives, and a box of something that looked suspiciously sweet. He brought it all to the coffee table. Nadir sat on the sofa while Erik settled into the adjacent chair.

Erik waved a hand at the spread. "Help yourself."

Nadir did so, enjoying the lovely mix of snacks. This was so totally unlike the other man that Nadir was rather speechless. He covered up his puzzlement by partaking rather enthusiastically. Even Erik ate a few bits of cheese and meat, delicately making sure to keep his thin lips closed while chewing.

Someone outside set off a round of fireworks, making Nadir jump at the noise.

Erik eyed him. "What is the matter with you?"

"Nothing," he answered, taking a sip of the cider as nonchalantly as he could. He tried to ignore those piercing yellow eyes. "What is in the box?"

"Macarons," he said, and added in the same breath: "You have never been an effective liar."

Nadir ignored the remark, taking up the box and flipping open the lid. Inside were nestled two dozen macarons in neat little rows, the pastel colors showcasing that they were Nadir's favorite. Nadir shoved half of one into his mouth; he couldn't exactly say something stupid if his mouth was full, could he?

Erik swirled his own glass of cider, still staring, expression unreadable with that damned mask. "I admit, I did not quite know how to react when you left so suddenly on Christmas. You barged into my home, roused me from my melancholies, took advantage of my emotional state, and fled just as quickly."

Nadir sputtered, nearly choking on the other half of the meringue. "I did not take advantage-"

Erik continued smoothly, "And then you have the audacity to simply vanish without a phone call, leaving me to spend Christmas alone-"

"You hate Christmas!"

"- and _then_ , clearly you expected to spend the New Year continuing to avoid me."

Nadir looked down at the box in his hand, suddenly feeling ashamed. Erik's words were true, weren't they? He _had_ done all of those things. Had he even planned on when he would contact Erik again?

He brushed the crumbs from his beard and set down the box of macarons. "I-I apologize for my behavior. I really don't know what has come over me."

"More lies." The words were harsh, but Erik's tone had remained even, almost gentle. Nadir could do little but stare down at his own hands and avoid what he might see in those yellow eyes.

Outside, the throngs of people began to shout, a cheer rising up from the streets. A quick glance at the clock told Nadir that it was two minutes until midnight.

"I don't mean to lie," he managed to squeeze out. "It's only that I- I am so very _tired_ of it all, Erik. The past that we have shared… I find it difficult to figure out how to go on from here."

Once he got started, he found himself unable to stop.

"For so long, I have been content enough. I have followed you, and doing so kept me going for quite a long time. I have watched you, cared for you, protected you, and like I said – I have been content with that. I am not sure when exactly following and watching became _not enough_ for me, but it did. Perhaps in the last year, I realized that being content was not enough, and that I wanted more, and I wasn't sure at all how to go about getting that."

His heart was pounding, palms sweating. "And really, I _tried_ to figure it out, I did. I could have made myself clearer, somewhere along the line. I could have spoken directly to you, made my intentions clear, but somewhere in here-" he pressed a hand to his chest "-lies an old man who still needs to protect his heart from being broken."

Outside, the crowd had begun to chant a countdown.

Silently, Erik rose, sided around the coffee table, and sat next to Nadir on the sofa. Cold fingers took one of Nadir's hands and pressed it flat-palmed against his bony chest. Beneath the thin shirt, Nadir felt a pulse pounding wildly.

"You are not that old," Erik said, "And you are not the only one who is terrified, Daroga."

And he was leaning forward, still trapping Nadir's hand against his chest, and touching cold lips to Nadir's own, who was too stunned to do anything more than hold still. The chanting on the streets burst into a flurry of " _Bonne année!"_ shouts and the crackles of lit firecrackers, the racket drowning out the sound of blood pounding in Nadir's ears.

Erik pulled back, lips pressed in a hard line. "If I have misinterpreted... I do not exactly have a lot of guidance in this area of-"

Nadir silenced him by fisting his hand in his shirt and dragging Erik's mouth back to his. Those cold lips relaxed into his, moving instead of just pressing, kissing instead of just touching. Nadir focused on the mere feeling of this man's lips against his, the firmness and rapidly warming of these two lines of flesh. Then he nudged the crease of closed lips with his tongue, seeking entrance and delving inside when those lips parted to let him in.

Erik tasted of cold cider with a hint of something darker. Nadir pressed harder, groaning low in his throat when he felt the tentative slide of a slick tongue meeting his. He broke to the side to gasp for air, barely able to take a breath before Erik was upon him again, lips insistent. Their teeth clicked together before Nadir coaxed a gentler angle from the other man, tilting so the kiss could be deepened.

Heat coiled low in his belly, a stirring that he struggled to ignore. Realizing he was still fisting Erik's shirt, he relaxed his grip, not wanting to seem too aggressive.

They pulled back from each other, both trying to catch their breath.

Erik's hands came up to cup Nadir's still on his chest. "I suppose I have not misunderstood after all."

Nadir laughed softly. "No, you haven't."

"Good."

Erik surged forward once again, this time with a fierce insistency that Nadir surrendered to without hesitation. Prodding tongue delved between his lips, swiping over his own. Erik fed upon his moan, devouring him with far more confidence than before.

Before he knew what was happening, Erik had slipped one slender thigh between Nadir's on the couch, adding pressure to his already growing bulge. Nimble fingers flitted down his shirt, unbuttoning him to his naval in one fell swoop. Nadir squirmed a little at the sudden exposure; the lights in the living room were a little too bright, Erik's scrutiny a little too piercing.

But then warmed lips were finding the pulse in his neck, fingers scratching in his beard to ask him to tilt his head up to give Erik better access. Teeth scraped their way down his collar, biting just a bit too hard upon his collar bone, before latching onto one brown nipple. He yelped as those teeth found the sensitive skin there, hard fingers pinching the other nipple in tandem, but blood rushed south quickly anyway, and he could not help but rub against that persistent thigh.

"E-Erik-"

"Shut up," Erik said before his lips found their way further downward, following the trail of soft black hair that formed in the center of his chest and swooped to his belly button.

Nadir squirmed at little at the attention, not all that comfortable with his body, but Erik pressed appreciative kisses across his waistline. For a moment, those unusual eyes met Nadir's, and then Erik had Nadir's pants undone and tugged below his hips, his underwear also tugged south in one quick jerk.

He had already been told not to speak once, so he only stared as Erik's long white fingers wrapped around his length. Those cool digits warmed quickly to his inflamed flesh, twisting and tugging with more finesse than they had the first time. This was moving much quicker than Nadir had anticipated, and he would have rather have savored the moment, spent some time appreciating Erik's body and showing him –

Firm lips formed around Nadir's length as Erik took him within his mouth, and Nadir gasped at the heat alone. He could do little more than clutch onto the couch to either side of him, overwhelmed by heat and suction and fingers that still encircled him. If Erik did not slow down… but he seemed determined to apply the same techniques Nadir had shown him last week, and he was, oh Allah, a quick learner.

The sight of his friend on his knees before him, squeezed between couch and table, nearly undid him right then.

Finally, he placed a hand upon Erik's shoulder, gently pushing him back so that Erik released him with an audible, wet pop. He shuddered.

Erik's head tilted to the side. "You did not enjoy it?"

"Oh, I did," Nadir assured him, adjusting his clothing to cover himself. "Too much so, in fact. I was hoping we could take our time tonight." He shrugged out of his shirt, which was hanging off him anyway, and leaned forward to kiss Erik's swollen, reddened lips. "Would you come to bed with me?"

Erik straightened on lean legs, watching as Nadir got to his feet and outstretched a hand to him. Erik took it, but he let go as soon as they reached the doorway to the bedroom, closing the door behind them. Nadir let him hover there and pulled down the covers on his bed for them both. He turned off the lights in the room until the only light came from a couple candles in the corner, the dimer atmosphere making him feel a bit more comfortable.

Then, aware of Erik's eyes on him, he came to stand before his friend. "May I?" he asked, hands hovering at his shirt.

Erik's slightly widened gaze darted about, but he nodded. A smile playing upon his lips, Nadir tilted his head up to kiss the taller man, applying enough pressure to walk Erik backward against the door. His hands sought Erik's suit coat, pushing the linen from the angular shoulders until it slid off his arms to the floor. Then he found the buttons on his shirt and undid them, going slowly, revealing each centimeter of pale skin to his perusal.

"At this pace," Erik said, voice rumbling in the throat Nadir mouthed, "we will not finish until _next_ year."

"Just let me enjoy this." Nadir mapped each bony protrusion with his lips, removing the shirt from each shoulder before letting it hang on the cuffs. "Let me enjoy you."

"What is there to enjoy?"

Nadir stepped back a moment, observing the other man. Yes, his body was scarred, a testament to the life he had led, the horrors he had suffered. His ribs could be counted in each stark distinction, and his skin seemed almost translucent in its paleness. They were contrasts of each other, but Nadir would not let his own insecurities overrule his need to show Erik how he felt.

He knew only actions could soothe Erik, so he cupped the nape of his neck and drew their mouths back together. Perhaps slowly had been the wrong decision in this. Slowly left too much time for warring thoughts to intrude.

Taking one of Erik's hands, he pressed it to the front of his pants and the hardness there. "Touch me?"

Erik responded by huffing a groan against Nadir's lips and slipping his hand beneath the waistband of Nadir's trousers, blunt nails scratching against the crisp mat of hair before finding his length once again. Nadir mirrored his action, first feeling Erik's own arousal through his pants before unbuttoning and unzipping enough to cup him unencumbered.

Erik jerked, the back of his head whacking hard against the door. "This will not be able to move _slowly_ , Daroga." He batted Nadir's hand away, but Nadir understood. A lifetime of celibacy had left the other man too sensitive to last long with too much attention.

"You want to be _touched_ , Daroga?" Erik growled against his lips. He pushed off the door, walking Nadir backwards to the bed, teeth dragging on Nadir's bottom lip, fingers digging into his shoulders.

Then he spun the Iranian around and shoved him hard toward the mattress, sending him sprawling, bent over, into the bed. Nadir sputtered at the harshness, but then he felt Erik's weight follow him, the other man pressing the length of his taller frame against Nadir's body. One of Erik's hands came around to encircle Nadir's member, the friction of that rough palm combined with the soft sheets causing Nadir to harden almost to the point of pain.

Nadir arched into that tight grip, dampening his moan into the mattress. The movement brought his backside flush with Erik's crotch and the bulge there. He froze, but when the other man only groaned against the shell of his ear, he gave a tentative arch into that digging hardness. Erik responded by rotating his hips against Nadir's backside, the friction delicious.

"Again, do that again," Nadir gasped into the sheets.

Teeth found purchase on the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Erik responded by tugging down Nadir's pants until they hung around his calves, and suddenly it was warm, rigid skin slipping into unseen places, trapped between Erik's belly and Nadir's buttocks.

Nadir felt his face redden. It had been well over a decade since he had engaged in such behavior with anyone – male or female – and he could feel the cool air hitting his exposed ass. Erik slowed his movements, the weight of his attention heavy upon Nadir's back. Then lithe digits followed the length of Nadir's quivering shoulders, tracing his spine before pausing at the beginning curve of one buttock.

"So smooth," Erik murmured.

Nadir fisted the sheets near his face. He knew his back was mostly unblemished, though his front had not fared as well over the many years he had spent as police chief, a couple knife wounds on his stomach and thigh, a bullet hole in his shoulder.

Erik began to move again, this time more contemplative. "What do you want, Daroga?"

What _did_ he want? He was beginning to realize perhaps it did not matter much as long as he able to share something of himself with the man at his back… as long as he could show how he had felt for years now.

Seeking fingers followed the curve of his buttock to the cleft found within. Nadir squirmed. He wasn't sure how he managed to find the courage to push out his next words. "That. I want _that_. L-Look in my nightstand."

He felt Erik lean to the right, heard the scrap of his nightstand drawer opening, and then the pop of a cap springing opening. He braced himself, but then felt the shock of cold liquid being poured onto his lower back.

"That's… that's not quite what I meant," he said, twisting up on an elbow, but Erik was already leaning forward again, pressing him back down onto the mattress, teeth clamping onto his earlobe. He groaned. With Erik's weight on his shoulders, Erik's hands were now both seeking the small puddle of oil, fingertips running through it and spreading it liberally across Nadir's behind.

"This is not what you meant, Daroga?" Erik said, voice slightly mocking in his ear. Long fingers sloped over his skin until the oil had created a slippery surface that Erik then began to deftly massage. He stroked up and down, beginning to rotate his hips once more, that rigid member now sliding more freely between Nadir's buttocks.

"Tell me what you meant, Daroga."

Nadir clenched his teeth, aware of the sheen of sweat now making his back glisten. The feel of Erik behind him, the tease of his fingers touching and yet not touching, the mere hint of what he might do if he shifted _just so_ …

He knew his friend had never done anything like this before, but he also knew Erik was far from innocent in his knowledge of how such matters worked. If Erik merely continued that maddening rocking, Nadir might very well go insane.

He turned his face into the sheets so his voice was muffled. "I want you… in me."

Erik had the audacity to _stop_ all motion. "What was that, Daroga? I cannot hear you."

Damn the man! "You know what I mean!"

"Do I now?"

Nadir could no longer stand it. "Fuck me, Erik! I want you to fuck me!"

The silence that followed was only punctuated by Nadir's own harsh breathing. Then Erik's fingers began to smooth along the slick curves of Nadir's buttocks once again, this time caressingly.

"Such vulgar language," Erik said, voice like silk, "from such an upstanding member of society. If I had known I could reduce you to this with only a few touches, I would have done so ages ago."

Nadir nearly sobbed when those fingers drifted lower, still teasing but this time with intent. The first intrusion made him tremble, but Erik was so slow about it that Nadir was given time to relax around that seeking finger before a second joined it. Erik seemed to realize that he wasn't going to break apart, and the fingers became more persistent, delving in and out with greater confidence. Each plunge sent him arching into the bed, and a wet spot had developed beneath him from his own aching member.

"Please, please," was all he could say before he clamped down on one of his knuckles.

The fingers were removed and replaced by something far larger, pressing forward, splitting Nadir apart with an unforgiving, steady dive. Erik did not pause until he was fully seated within, his bony hips digging into Nadir's backside. To his surprise, Erik's hands sought his, coaxing his fists to relax enough so that their fingers could be entwined on either side of Nadir's head.

Once Erik caught his breath, he pulled out nearly the entire length before delving in again, starting a pounding rhythm that had Nadir arching his back to meet him thrust for thrust. The harsh slap of skin on skin consumed him, the heat and friction making him see sparks behind his eyelids. It was intense and too rough and unpracticed and somehow still tender, and it was everything Nadir had wanted.

It was also over far too soon, ending in one brutal lunge that made Nadir dig his teeth into the fleshy part of his palm to keep from screaming.

Erik collapsed onto his back, his weight considerably heavier than Nadir might have guessed. Thoughts tried to formulate in Nadir's mind, but he could not form them into the proper words to say after something like that. He still pulsed against his own belly, painfully hard.

He yelped when Erik swiftly pulled out from within him. "Get on the bed," Erik said gruffly, and Nadir did so immediately, scooting so he was fully on the mattress and rolling onto his back at Erik's insistence.

"Erik, you don't have to-"

"I want to."

And he knelt between Nadir's knees, tugging off his pants where they still dangled from an ankle so he could nudge Nadir's thighs open. He bent and swallowed Nadir between his thin lips, at the same time plunging two fingers into Nadir's slick entrance to the last knuckle.

Nadir tossed back his head, overcome with sensation. It took only a few pumps of those firm lips, a swipe of hot, damp tongue, and a twist of rough fingers to send him spiraling into an orgasm so intense that he could do no more than shudder under its throes. Erik continued his onslaught until Nadir's pulses eased, drinking him down, yellow eyes surveying with rapt attention.

Finally, when he could stand no more, Erik released him. He tried to scoot back from Nadir, but the Iranian caught his bony shoulders and pulled him down for a kiss, not caring that he could taste himself on his lips. They kissed with gentle swipes of lips and tongue, and Nadir could feel Erik's nervous tension ease a little.

"Shower?" he asked, pulling back.

Erik nodded, and Nadir slid off the bed to stride to the bathroom, aware of the golden gaze following him. He started the shower, the hot water quickly filling the small room with steam. Erik appeared in the doorway, now fully naked. Nadir gave him an appreciative sweep of his eyes, then nudged him into the bathroom so he could close the door.

Nadir stepped behind the curtain, letting the spray hit his sore muscles. It was a while before he heard the rattle of the curtain as Erik joined him.

"That was… satisfactory?"

With the water running down his face, Nadir kept his eyes closed, but he offered a reassuring smile. "That was more than satisfactory."

To his surprise and delight, he felt soapy hands begin to run across his shoulders, kneading the muscles there that were trying to knot. "I could get better at such things. With practice." A hand ran down Nadir's belly, cleaning its path but also suggestive.

Practice. The promise of a future together.

Nadir edged just out of the shower so he could wipe the water from his eyes and open them. An unmasked Erik stood before him, golden eyes bright in the steam, bare face carefully blank. It was far from the first time he had seen his friend without his mask, but it was the first time it had been so willingly.

Nadir took another step forward and tilted his face up for a kiss. "Happy New Year."

"Indeed." And swollen lips met his.


End file.
